


Harkon’s Wish

by FrickinAngel



Category: Skyrim, TES, The Elder Scrolls - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dawnguard, Dragonborn - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, Fluffy, Light Romance, Vampires, dovakhin, elder scroll, volkihar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrickinAngel/pseuds/FrickinAngel
Summary: What happened to Serana between the time when the Dragonborn leaves Castle Volkihar and when she shows up at the Dawnguard with the Elder Scroll?





	Harkon’s Wish

Harkon’s Wish

Castle Volkihar

2:36am

Serana lay stiffly in her coffin in the velvet darkness, unable to find a comfortable position no matter how she turned or twisted about. Somewhere, deep within the stony hallways, a lone clock ticked. One of the human cattle moaned sadly nearby and her stomach growled with hunger in response. Outside, as ever, the wind curled and howled about the castle walls, as if searching for a way in.

At last she sat up and cast a fire spell on the candle next to her coffin. It lit the bare stone walls of her room with a warm, flickering light that was small comfort to her. After what may have been hundreds of years trapped in magical sleep under Dimhollow Crypt, her mind raced with uneasy thoughts about the future. 

She clutched the Elder Scroll more tightly to her chest and sighed. She wished she hadn’t sent Anya Dragonborn away once they had reached Castle Volkihar. What had she been thinking? That her father would welcome her with open arms after so many years? That he would be pleased to see her after she and her mother plotted against him, thwarted his demonic plan to extinguish the very sun that warmed the earth?

Now she realized that all she and her mother had done when they hid Serana away was to push the same problem centuries down the line: Harkon’s desire to bring an endless night to Skyrim was unchanged. If anything, he was more devoted to the idea than ever from what she could see. The way that vicious light had kindled in his eyes when he saw the scroll on her back. . . Well, it made her shudder to even think about. 

He had asked to see it immediately after dismissing Anya, and she had pled fatigue, saying it had been a long journey, she needed to rest and recover before they explored the scroll together. 

For some reason, perhaps the blood they shared alone, he had granted her this and let her go off to her room, which she had found to have been kept nicely, despite her long absence. She had barred the door and paced back and forth for hours, trying to decide what to do, just as she was doing now.

She could give him the scroll and hope that the knowledge it held was so arcane and obscure that no one alive (or undead) could help him with his horrid plans. She could try to fabricate a scroll that looked much like it and hope that Harkon wouldn’t realize until she had escaped the castle with it. In her day, she had been a fine artist and had often painted and done beautiful calligraphy. 

If she copied it exactly on dirtied vellum and rolled it up on the same dowel, perhaps he would have no way of knowing it wasn’t the real item until she was long gone. He would have to find one of those insane Moth priests to read it for him anyway, and even in her own day, they had been few and far between. 

Everyone knew the magic of an elder scroll was known to be locked within the very fabric of it. Therefore, even if he had the ancient words to block the sun forever from shining, he would have no way of bringing his plan to fruition until he found one of the priests.

She slid the scroll out of its elaborate case and opened it carefully, staring at it as she traced the patterns of the runes and designs with her fingertips. It was beautiful, a real work of art. But it could be done. . . “Or I could. . . Burn it,” she whispered, her voice echoing eerily against the cold stone walls. 

She held the scroll near the candle flame, feeling a trembling within herself. To burn such a treasure! It was unthinkable! She pulled it back from the flame. And yet, what her father had planned for Skyrim was also unthinkable. The people would no longer be able to farm or live. It would grow colder than ever. There would be no beautiful flowers or butterflies, no birdsong or Northern Lights. All of it gone, so Harkon could comfortably walk the day as he had done millennia ago before becoming Undead.

She supposed there was a certain allure to walking the day again, never to fear burning up in the holy light of the sun. Living in perpetual twilight. But no. . . She pushed the scroll toward the flame again, watching as the vellum began to smoke slightly and then to singe. The world around her seemed to waver, as if she were actually underwater. And she pulled it away again. It wouldn’t do to burn it. 

Besides, she had heard terrible tales of burned Elder Scrolls releasing the pent up souls of the Daedra used to create them in the first place. Elder Scrolls were complex arcane magic that it didn’t do to trifle with. 

No, she would copy it and escape with the real Elder Scroll. Anya Dragonborn, her lovely savior, had said it would be invaluable to the Dawnguard in defeating her father and now, Serana would do anything for Anya. Anything. 

She thought about the moment she had been released from her prison under Dimhollow Crypt. Anya’s blue eyes had widened in shock and surprise, and then she had leaped forward to catch Serana before she fell. Anya’s arms were warm and strong, even through her leather armor. 

Serana felt terrible about not trusting Anya at first. She had been deliberately cryptic about what the Scroll was for, where she lived and why she needed to get home. She should have told Anya the entire story immediately and gone directly to the Dawnguard with Anya. It had been a terrible mistake coming home again. 

Home. . . What did it even mean now? She had no idea where her mother might be, if she even yet lived. Her mother had been the only home she had ever known. Harkon had always been so driven by his goals and desires that he had no time for a family. Even after so many years, perhaps even centuries, all he had cared about was his stupid Elder Scroll. 

“To oblivion with his damnable Scroll!” She hissed, her red eyes narrowing angrily. 

She dropped the scroll on the side table and went to prepare her calligraphy pens and vellum. 

Later. . .

“Now, all this needs is a bit more rubbing on the stone floor,” she murmured, surveying her calligraphy next to the real Elder Scroll. Her eyes were bleary with fatigue, but she felt that she had created a very convincing imitation. She picked up the vellum and ground parts of it into the stone floor. She had shuffled her boots all over it as well, to simulate the patina of centuries.

She crumpled it up several more times and then smoothed it flat on the table. It looked ancient. She slid the original scroll off of its wooden dowel and wound her imitation in its place, sliding the package into the beautiful, carved case. 

Then she slipped the real scroll into the bodice of her dress. She thought of the look in Anya’s eyes when she handed her the real scroll and told her that she would help them defeat her own father. 

Maybe before she actually even made it to the Dawnguard fortress they would kill her. But she would arrive in the morning, when they would know she was at the weakest ebb of her powers and strength, and perhaps the mere curiosity of a vampire showing up at the Dawnguard alone would buy her some time until she could talk to Anya. 

Would Anya be happy to see her again? Would she even believe her? Something about Anya made Serana think she could trust the woman. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.

Serana left her fabricated Scroll in her coffin for her father to find and quietly slipped out of her room. She managed to exit the castle through the slave pens, as she knew no one would think to guard them. All of the human cattle were locked up for the day already as all the vampires were bedding down for the daily rest. 

She snuck down to the jetty in the cool, early hours of the morning, the last stars twinkling in the twilit sky as the sun prepared to rise again, her hood pulled protectively over her face and head as she rowed one of the small boats across the bay to the shores of Skyrim.   
The thought of her new friend, Anya, made her heart soar, despite the uncertainty of it all. Anya had braved ancient vampires, gargoyles and Draugr deathlords to get Serana out of Dimhollow Crypt to safety. She had desperately needed Serana’s Elder Scroll, and yet she had allowed her and it to remain at Castle Volkihar, in the hands of her enemies. She felt certain she could trust Anya now. She knew it. 

They had a connection. 

A cold morning breeze blew up around the boat, churning the water into whitecaps around her just as she made it to shore. The first birds were beginning to chirp and twitter in the trees, and the water lapped the sand hungrily as she pulled the boat up to the dock, tied it up and looked back towards Castle Volkihar in the distance, dark and menacing even on this beautiful morning. 

“I’ll stop you, Father,” Serana whispered, glaring across the water to where Harkon was surely blissfully unaware of her escape, asleep in his coffin. She had a day to get ahead of him before he discovered her treachery. Dagon grant that he slept well today. . . 

She shook her head, smiled and began to walk toward Anya Dragonborn and the possibility of a new life as the sun rose ahead of her.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more to this story, but this was what occurred to me yesterday morning after my Dragonborn left Serana at Castle Volkihar. Any interest in seeing more?


End file.
